For what it’s worth, not all of it is bullshit. Not to me.
At that moment, it was worth my goddamn sanity.
I knew what I wanted when I followed her to her room. I told myself it was an act of rebellion. An act Ideserved. But then, I was in her space, having locked the door, and Isawher. I saw the vulnerability in her brown eyes. I saw the tremble in her grasp as she reached for her zipper.
Seconds. A few seconds was all it took for her to strip me raw, and like a puff of smoke, all the bullshit had gone. I was no longer following her in an act of rebellion. I followed because I need her, because I need somethingrealfrom her, and somehow, she knew. Somehow, she offered herself to me. She gave me a piece of herself I never thought I’d get. A piece of her I can’t stop replaying: eyes locked on mine, hips grinding against my hand, my broken name on her lips—
“Easton?”
I jerk away from Eva’s door. Isaac’s fiance, Thomas, stands at the top of the stairs.
“Isaac’s been looking for you. Wanted to make sure you’re okay. He tried your room, but ...” He glances at the door beside me, not knowing it’s Eva’s. “Guess he missed you. Anyway, we gotta take off, but he’s still downstairs if you have a minute.”
“Uh, yeah. Be right down.”
Thomas nods, and I wait until he heads back down the stairs before adjusting myself. Shit. I’m still hard as fuck. I follow after him, stepping over a broken picture frame at the same moment my parents’ door opens.
My feet freeze, eyes lock with my dad’s.
His hand slips from the doorknob, and he takes a hesitant step forward. My chest hammers. I’m not sure if he’s coming toward me or making a break for the stairs, and by the uncertainty in his expression—a look I see so rarely I hardly recognize it—neither is he.
He swipes a hand through his sandy brown hair, flicks his gaze toward the stairs, and then he looks at me. “Easton ...” A swallow. “I ...”
I cock a brow, but with each ticking second of silence, something inside me withers away.You, what? Hate me? Wish I wasn’t here?
“I ... can’t do this right now,” he finishes.
Pulling on his tie, he makes up his mind and walks to the stairs. I watch, unable to move, until he disappears. My throat is tight, the collar of my button-down choking me even though its undone. When I eventually follow after his shadow, descend the stairs behind him, I can’t help realizing I’m always going to be chasing him. Forever in his shadow.
The house is dead other than some caterers packing up and Maria zipping from one room to the next filling up a trash bag.
Isaac and Thomas are chatting in the foyer when I spot them, Isaac pulling his guitar strap over his shoulder. I roll down my sleeve, shove my hands into my pockets, and try to let the emotions roll off my shoulders. My dad makes it look so damn easy not to care. But I can’t fucking do it, and I guess that’s just proof I’m not my father’s son.
“Hey,” Isaac says when I approach them. He looks at Thomas, who glances away, shuffles his feet, and checks his phone.
“Oh, yeah, gotta take this,” Thomas says, raising his phone with a black screen before putting it to his ear. “Ah, hello ... ?”
Isaac’s lips quirk as Thomas walks away carrying on with his imaginary conversation, then he returns his focus to me. “So. How are you holding up?”
“Could be better.”
“Look ... about what Dad said, we all know he can be a real asshole. Just ...” He presses his lips together, grips his guitar strap. “Give it time, you know? He handles things his own way. Remember when we were kids?”
My jaw ticks, discomfort flaring in my gut at the reminder my dad wasn’t always this way. That he loved me once.
“Remember when we knocked down his entire fucking guitar collection in the garage? Remember how fucking furious he was?” Isaac laughs. I don’t. “He was an asshole for weeks.”
“Months.”
“We thought for sure he’d whoop our asses or disinherit us, but then, after he got some space, he got over it. He always gets over it.”
“Yeah, well.” I rub the back of my neck, glance toward the stairs. I wonder what Eva’s doing. If she’s sleeping or lying in bed awake. Whether she’d open her door for me if I came back. “Turns out he’s had years toget over itthis time. If it hasn’t happened by now, pretty sure it’s not going to.”
Isaac shuts his eyes, releases a breath, then pulls me in for a hug. He pats my back twice. “Well, if he doesn’t, it’s his loss.” He steps back, meeting Thomas’s gaze and giving a nod. “And anyway, look at the bright side. At least you’ll always have Mom.”
My lips twitch dryly, and he laughs as Thomas returns to his side.
“Okay, no, but seriously. Call me if you need to talk. I’d stay if I could, but you know ... I don’t discriminate; professors are assholes too.” He takes Thomas’s hand. “And Eva ... she acts all tough, but it’s always the tough ones who are the softest ... Do me a favor and take care of her.”
